​"Mr. Frankel had a stripper Mines drop him off by Coney Island restaurant," Dwayne said.Qadira understood what kind of woman Mr. F desire. Dwayne wasn't going see how he hurt her. She snapped back. "How would you know she was a stripper?""Ty got me a fake ID for his bachelor party." Dwayne paused. "He got married and left a widow behind with mom and me.""It may have been one of PP members who killed your brother," said Qadira reaching across to squeeze his hand. Mario faced flash in her mind and tears flow among the basketball shots and gym shoes pounding the gym's floor. Killing was a given in her neighborhood. She wanted to live not be another body shot down on West Chicago. Got move somewhere safe."PP started the Tattle Tale gang to survive on the streets," said Dwayne."I don't excuse him for Mario's murder," Dwayne said. "I know why it went down.""Explain to me what justified his death?" "In the streets, it’s the gang life or not," Dwayne said slapping his knee as a basketball escaped into the bleacher. He retrieved the ball, rolling it in his hands. Then he set in his lap."Nothing makes it okay you taking an innocent life," Qadira said. "Who is he to decide when I live and die?" Dwayne had been hanging around PP too much. The gang leader brainwashed him, Khalilah couldn't do that to her."I'm not saying he has power or for you to fear him." "Say what you mean," Qadira said."PP real name is Xavier Bolton born to a drug addict mother who-""Khalilah's parents are both drug dealers," Qadira said crossing her legs. "She doesn't go around popping people."

​"No, you’re a weak talker." Khalilah said, washing her hands. "Whining is all I hear. You whine about how your mother is a crazy lady who love the people in her head more than you. And your dad can't stay out of other women's beds." Khalilah unwrapped her sandwich.Qadira knew Khalilah wanted her to take deadly life changing chances. She took the sandwich platter and threw it in the refrigerator. Tapping her nails against the freezer compartment, she realized the drug game had to be her last choice."I feel like I'm the one messed up," said Qadira. "Keep being told to understand my mother and love her.""What you need is to get out," Khalilah said. "I've got tired of being blame for my mother's troubles and I just left." She bummed Qadira out her way and joined Ayesha by the door. "Hurry up and decide for I can recruit somebody else in time." She left along with Ayesha.Qadira hung out in the gymnasium, watching the young men from the middle school and high school warming up. Dwayne finished drying all the uniforms. He entered the gym, doubled up the benches to reach the top where she sat."Khalilah, get you what you needed it," Dwayne asked."She's getting close," Qadira said, lying to Dwayne. She demanded out of mother’s psychotic world. Khalilah might be the only way. Valerian old tired rubber body on hers wasn't the idea fool to lose her virginity. "What if she can't," Dwayne said. "You think Mr. Frankel going turn around married you?"Qadira gasped. "I don't want him.""Good," Dwayne paused. "You couldn't please Khalilah without selling your soul or Mr. Frankel without performing a strip tease.""What do you mean about Mr. F?" Qadira asked.

​"Don't your mama feed you at home?" Qadira asked, curling her nose in Ayesha's direction."When are you not an ass?" Ayesha asked. Qadira stamped away from the door banging into Dwayne. He caught her from falling down. Khalilah and Ayesha flashed them evil eyes."Just emptying the trash," Dwayne said squeezing her before letting her go. " The jerseys will be dried in an hour. Then we can get a game going.""Fine with me," Qadira said, brushing her hand against his chin. "I'm taking them to the kitchen." She switched her hips leading the females. Letting them envy her."You two got something going on," asked Khalilah. Ayesha followed close behind her."Nope," Qadira said waving her hand over her figure. "I want the baby daddy to help me if I have to give up all this beauty."Dwayne smiled as he cut between Qadira and Khalilah. He carried garbage sacks over his arms. He pulled the trash bag in the kitchen and replaced it with a new bag."I've a baby daddy," Ayesha said. "When he leaves his wife we're going to move into together.""How long they been married?" Qadira asked retrieving the catering platter from the refrigerator."About 40 years and he's tired of her and his daughter.""Those kind never leave their wives," Qadira paused. "He used you to make him feel young. My parents have been married 38 years and he does the same."Khalilah flipped through the sandwiches on the tray. "I told you she knows things.""Why you say that about me?" Qadira asked. "You're still sleeping with Valerian and he has done nothing for you.""I'm getting plenty in return," Khalilah said, stuffing her pockets with sandwiches.She comes here for food, Qadira thought. Valerian didn't give Khalilah pillow to lay her head on in peace or money to buy food."All you worried about what you get out of it," Ayesha said. "You are so-""Go wait in the gym," Khalilah said. Ayesha stammered out the room.Khalilah pulled out a chair from the wooden dinette set. After plopping down in the chair, she motioned for Qadira to come near her. Qadira took two lunch bags from the cabinet over the stove."Put the sandwiches in these bags," said Qadira, taking the chair next to her. She looked around the room and stared at the hallway for two seconds when Khalilah gripped her arm."If we give Valerian a threesome,” Khalilah paused. “He'll allow you to run the books in our future operation in Southfield.""I'm not giving up nothing to work under somebody," Qadira said pushing her chair back. "I want my operation." "Girl you can't be bigger than me.""Yes, I can; I'm patience."

​"Nothing," Qadira said, widening the door. "It's those clowns over there. I thought they were coming to bother me.""Relaxed," he said, holding her hand. "I'm here to protect you."Qadira giggled. Dwayne had good taste. He was trouble, same as all the other boys from the block. It would start wonderful, end with her belly popped."This place stinks," Dwayne said. "Did you wash our uniforms?""Heck no," Qadira said. "You need to clean them and have the kids run practice.""I'll get them," he said, dropping her hand."Remember, I'm a monitor," said Qadira sliding her case to the office. Inside the office a chair tilted to the right with a desk. When she tossed her case on top the desk, it wobbled. Ignoring the teetering, she pulled out her English homework. Tide detergent scent soap vanished the musty odor of the building. Bell chimed. This place got a bell, Qadira thought, passing through the corridor. It had to be connected to the back door. She crossed over the gym floor to reach it. A few of the middle school boys had arrived attempting shots. The gymnasium needed a running fan to make it not a health hazard with thick perspiration and hot air. Then she could call this a good hang out, enjoying the lay back atmosphere and being in charge. Opening the door, Qadira had been fronted with Khalilah and Ayesha, her annoying sidekick. They took up positions on each side of the door frame. They were each her shadow. Both of them had popped up on Qadira a lot. "You've got something to eat in here," asked Khalilah."Yeah, we do," Qadira said. "Ayesha's mom dropped off some leftover food from her catering." Ayesha the ghetto queen with teased curls and gold trapezoid pierced earrings flaunted herself in those tight fitted see through tops with a pair of jeans. Where she found the rogue-colored bra? Her breasts looked like oranges on top of her enlarging gut. The baby lost in it somewhere."Can we get some of it?" Khalilah asked.

​Mr. Frankel left Qadira inside the community center. Hurrying toward the door, she locked it behind him. She leered out the peep-hole at her teacher placing her suitcase outside his car and driving out the parking lot. Lazy fool, he could have brought it to the door. Spotting four men hanging out on the corner sharing a cigarette and a bottle of Colt 45, her body trembled. Cracking the door, one of the guys who had a black sweat jacket looked up at her. Rapid gunshots rained out over the street. Unable to find the shooter, she clenched her hands."You scared little girl," sweat jacket said. He swung around tapping his friends to join him bursting in laughter. "What's funny low life?" Qadira asked rushing to grab her Samsonite."Little girl take yourself somewhere else," said sweat jacket."Do nothing drunkards," Qadira said. Pushing the door with her shoulder, she slid in her case. She turned around and slammed the door. Bums like that would stick a knife in her for what little she had to show their power. Qadira clicked the lights on, pounding at the door raced her heart.No use calling the police, Qadira thought. They run them off and the same group would return."Qadira, are you in there?" The young voice shouted."It's you, Dwayne," Qadira cracked the door and peered out. He squeezed his face near the door."What's going on?" Dwayne asked.

​Lando dropped to his knees. "Arcadio, they loved you." How pathetic? Panther thought scratched his trigger finger. Lando whooped him in front his neighbors. His murdering addict ass wanted sympathy."Where is Constance?" Arcadio aimed his gun to Lando's head.Panther shot Lando in the head. Then he headed toward the limo, Arcadio shoved him to the ground."Who told you to kill him?" Arcadio asked."Myself," Panther said. "We need to kill Constance. The sirens.""Come with me," Arcadio said, hustling back to the jeep.Panther ran behind him. He hung his weapon around his neck. "Let me douse it!"Arcadio tossed him the gas canister at him. Panther circled the limo, pouring the gas on it. Panther opened the passenger section. Constance's body had a swollen face and bloody leg. She resembled the day Arcadio's assault her. "The police sirens are getting closer," Arcadio said, running for the jeep. "Constance dead in here, Lando kill her," Panther shouted. Constance crawled out the limo toward the farmhouse. "Throw me your lighter." Panther used it to set the car hood a blaze."Why you leave my lighter behind?" Arcadio asked, backing up his jeep. Panther plopped in the passenger seat.He couldn't kill Arcadio yet, Panther thought. He had set-it up for him to go down for these deaths. It would leave one less person to catch him ratting.

​"I'm getting pack." Arcadio headed back into the house where a duffle bag propped the screen door open."Are you going to fix this place up," Panther pushed Arcadio's layers of fat on his back toward the living room."Get your cold hands off me!" Arcadio said, smacking Panther across his lips."I'm trying to be helpful," Panther said, holding his mouth. "I don't want you," He picked up the pizza boxes and then recapped the bottles soaking up the spilled pop with napkins from the pizzeria. "Why are so afraid of a touch?""You keep your place," Arcadio said, spitting on the carpet. "Nachine put me in charge. You kiss this butt." Panther took a couple of napkins to wipe up the spit. "The guns and gasoline are in the jeep. Let's go."

Panther kept quiet with his arms folded as Arcadio drove his Wrangler Sahara jeep on the I-96 heading to Livonia. Nachine called him. How much she told him? He wouldn't know. She had to have brought up Constance. Arcadio rambled on about why Constance should've die in her precious limo. She never respected him and considered him the dumb brother. Twisting in his seat, he held his tongue.Arcadio rolled up the grayish paved driveway. He retrieved two automatic guns from his duffle bag. The farmhouse with its macaroon-colored paint and gold trimmed could be seen right away. The family Cadillac was in the matching color garage. Constance's limo had been parked blocking the garage door. Raising his arm up out the window, he fired at the limo's tires. Lando jogged in the direction of the jeep.Panther covered his ears. He expressed a glowing smiled with a tingling sensation. Kill Lando and his kids. Constance should've been with him. Dario and Oihane ran to the driver's door trying to open it. The bullets ripped through their skin. "Yeah," Panther yelled. "Get closer." He leaned forward out the jeep. Arcadio stopped the jeep. Panther jumped out."Stop shooting Arcadio!" Lando cried. Arcadio drove alongside Lando as he scampered towards the children.

​"You could have arrested him for assault against Constance," Panther said. "It was never reported.”"She told me.""I'm not going into any long explanation about why I didn't charge Arcadio," DA Vaal said waving off Panther. "I want you to hurry this up for I can get on with another case. Nachine needs to be off the street. You're a good worker but Detroiters like me know how to deal with the drug dealers whether their rich or poor. I know what I'm doing."Panther waited until DA Vaal slithered out the house. Then he doubled back to Arcadio's house. Stuffing his hands furthered down in his pocket, he glanced over the scenery. The picturesque places in TV ads of his community ignored filming the addicts hanging out on the porch and yards with crack pipes and needles. They begged kids for their pennies to buy another hit. Mothers cut up dope in Nachine's headquarter house Valerian guarded the door.

Panther saw a crack head riddle a baby with bullets. The baby's mama jumped on top of the child's body, who had died from the first shot, trying to save her child’slife. Pausing at the red house where it happened, he patted his hands on the crumble cement. The stain washed away months ago. He buried his aunt and niece. He sought revenge against the shooter. The shooter had given him a beat down, leaving him with shame. Losing his rep, he considered himself worthless. Who wanted to be around somebody got their ass kick by an addict?The scent of burning weed stuck in the air. Panther held his mouth, squeezing it tight before drops of puke came out. Bad weed. Would he have to kill Arcadio if he found out about him being a snitch? He reeled himself around on the concrete, staring up at Arcadio's house. He cut across his yard, banging on his windows."What do you want, Panther?" Arcadio asked glaring down at him from the window. His gooey thicken hair soaked up in gel and hair oil. The saturated mixture stained form on his collar of a silk printed gold and red shirt. It dangled over his genie ballooning pants. "Go to the back door for I can hear you." Arcadio perspired throughout the day, he had disgusting sweat glands that couldn't stop sweating. This and his wanna be I am in charge act made him a tiresome person to deal with. Panther raced around to the side door meeting him. He wiped off the sweat rolling off his forehead. "Man you need to wear a towel," Panther asked. "Did Nachine call you?"

"We don't need to meet every time Nachine and you have breakfast and sexual intercourse," DA Vaal said, hugging up close to Panther who brushed his arm off. "I'm your friend."Panther's friends didn't demand him to put his life in harm's way. They wanted him rich and famous. This joker's talk had him laughing."You should find another home before this one is burnt down with you in it," Panther said. He knew to be careful throwing stuff up in the DA’s face. He fronted himself as an Untouchable. Yet he never felt any urgency to get this house torn down, the reporters and cameras weren't around to show boat. "She wants me to kill Lando and his family." "Arcadio will take complete power," DA said with his eyes jumping. He adjusted his shorts and stuffed his shirt in them, preparing for a camera opportunity. "She believes Lando's ambition is to snitch. The family wall crumbles. Are you doing the hit today?""Working with useless Arcadio, it'll take about mid-week," Panther said, rubbing his hands together. "Aren't you cold with that on?" DA Vaal cleared his throat picking up his overcoat from the floor. "I'm glad you see things my way, murdering them will make Detroit a better place." He patted Panther's back. "I have surveillance lost on Lando's family."DA Vaal doesn't care he kills, Panther thought. And he promises a jail free card. Should've brought a tape recorder."Where is it to go down, in Detroit or Livonia?"Panther's eyes followed DA Vaal pacing back and forth. "I can easily kill them anywhere. Then I tell Nachine, Arcadio did it. So you won't have to wait." "I want you to hurry up and get enough evidence on the family so they can do jail time. I'm not ordering you to kill for me to drop your charges. Our country will be a safer place. And-"There DA Vaal started, giving his political speech. He heard it the day he had gotten escort to be booked. DA Vaal talked like an insurance salesman. He convinced him jail would kill him faster than the street. Then he wrapped his arm around him like his son he saved from death. No lie, the DA was glad what he decided. "You hear me," DA peered out a crack between the boards nailed to the window frame. "I want you to have Arcadio to kill them. It would allow him to show his power to his grandmother and the people on the street would hate him for killing the kind brother."

Author Note. The scene needs a rewrite to flow smooth. I’ve been working on it. I’ll see how it goes as I continue to rewrite.

Panther ignored her comment as he stared at her engraved lines on her head. He noticed crow's feet around her eyes and her hanging flabby neck. He deceived himself. Nachine was the kind that held him back, and at the same time convinced him he worked for the winning drug dealer. He heard the same with Get It Right, he decided to rob him and quit."I'll check in with Arcadio," Panther said, pushing himself up from the chair."I can't cut them up and bury them underneath the floor boards in their house," Nachine said. "Oh no, my daughter says. The cops will find the bodies and more will come. My daughter and husband are cowards." She took a taste of the enchiladas and pulled the fork from her lips with her eyes close, savoring the taste of murder. She became lost in her world where dismembering was normal." Take care, Panther."Panther left Nachine in the family kitchen with his nauseated stomach. She had no respect for how money was made in the city. Hurrying to the house next door that was trashed with empty liquor bottles and used syringes, he peeked into Arcadio's living room. Pizza boxes and Dixie cups covered the floor. All the comfort of a pigsty. Returning to the sidewalk, he headed down the street toward Ellis. The sunshine and Sunkist-colored houses should be the same one, Panther thought. Nachine didn't understand how to run things. Arcadio's pastel blue-colored house was positioned between the spring colors lime and sunshine-colored houses. A steel door guarded the drug supply and guns inside the blue one. Zetta claimed the lime house. Her mother lived in it, liked the owner. He needed to get in the sunshine-colored one, the Inheritance Corp Headquarters, for hard copies of names and dates. The Sunkist colored house also known as Houdini house belong to Valerian, Nachine son-in-law. He loved the house positioned on the corner; he could escape the cops during a raid. To Panther, the Valerian’s house had been the best place for the headquarters. Nachine made another poor choice by having the red-colored house across from the lime-colored one. That house should’ve been next to Valerian’s house. The neighbors hated the red house, it created fear driven in them. They believed it stored two rocket launches and a miniature tank. When referring to the red house, she would guarantee she never go to jail alive. Panther planned to talk to the District Attorney Vaal after meeting with Arcadio. Didn’t happened. He jogged up the driveway to the only abandon house on Montrose Street. He pushed aside a charred door making his way across a warp floor. The DA made him the answer to putting Nachine away. She earned a jail free card by terrorizing the community to keep silent."What do you want?" asked DA Vaal putting on his overcoat. "Come out," Panther said. "Why are you hiding in the corner?"

Frelisa Walker

The novel One Death At A Time (work in progress) conveys a hopeful message that Detroit can overcome it's problems.​​This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.